


Precise Hot Cocoa

by tprillahfiction



Category: STXI - Fandom, Star Trek Reboot, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Fluff, K/S Advent Calendar, M/M, drunk!Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tprillahfiction/pseuds/tprillahfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for K/S Advent 2012 in response to the prompt: Spock wants to make Jim some hot cocoa.  He isn't sure he made it correctly so he keeps having to taste it. (and we all know what chocolate does to Vulcans!).  Drunk!Spock, FLUFF, Christmas themes, mild angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precise Hot Cocoa

In Science Lab 7, aboard the USS Enterprise, Spock raised his left eyebrow at the recipe displayed on the PADD:

**_Awesome Hot Cocoa:_ **

**_2 cups powdered sugar_**

**_1 cup cocoa_ **

**_2 1/2 cups milk_ **

**_1 teaspoon salt_ **

**_2 teaspoons cornstarch_ **

**_1 pinch cayenne pepper, or more to taste._ **

**_Combine all ingredients in a mixing bowl and incorporate evenly.  In a small pot, heat 4 to 6 cups of milk.  Fill your mug half full with the mixture and pour in hot milk.  Stir to combine.  Seal the rest in an airtight container.  Keeps indefinitely in the pantry._ **

 

Today was Christmas Eve back on Earth and this was to be Spock’s ‘Christmas’ gift to his captain. 

Ordinarily Spock would eschew such observances as, obviously, he was a Vulcan.  However, Jim had pulled him aside in the officer’s mess three standard days ago and invited him over to his quarters on Christmas Eve at 21:00.  He could hardly turn down an invitation.  So, he did the required research and had read much about the holiday.   He therefore assumed the captain would want to exchange gifts as per traditional Earth custom.

He had had to consider as to what type of gift he would present to Jim.  After a day of deliberation, he had finally settled on this:  A serving of steaming hot cocoa presented in an exquisite captain’s mug.  He knew that Jim had often lamented not owning his own 'captain’s mug' such as the one Christopher Pike had possessed when captain.

The mug itself was of a golden color, emblazoned with the Starfleet Arrow insignia, and “James T. Kirk, Captain”, along the bottom.  It had taken a certain amount of 'string pulling' to obtain the mug this quickly, it finally materializing secretly (with Mr. Scott’s assistance) in the transporter room. 

The mug now sat safely in the center of the lab table awaiting its beverage.

He glanced at the assorted ingredients covering the lab table along with a large metal boiling pan and the heating element.  It had also taken some creative wrangling over the past few days to obtain some of the food items from ship’s stores.  

Perhaps this gift creation would have been better conducted in the ship’s kitchen.  However, the facility was at this very moment being utilized to cook a Christmas Eve dinner for the crew.

He had overheard Dr. McCoy exhorting the captain in the officer’s mess to eat healthier.  The captain was also, he had again overheard, allergic to a great many things.  Therefore, the need had arose to hack into the medical computer, a ridiculously easy venture, to find out exactly what the captain was allergic to.  None of the items assembled in front of him would cause the captain any negative reaction.  Not even the cayenne pepper or the milk.

If one might query as to why he would hack into the medical computer, the surly reply from Dr. McCoy explained the rationale when he’d commed the Chief Medical Officer regarding precisely what type of milk was commonly used in hot cocoa:

“ _What the hell are you talking about, Mr. Spock_?”

“What type of Earth animal milk is commonly consumed in the popular Earth drink: ‘hot cocoa’?” Spock had enquired, yet again, very patiently.

There was a pause before:  “ _Is this a trick question?  Yak milk, Mr. Spock_ ,” McCoy had growled. 

“Yak milk?”

There was a chuckle.  “ _I’m just fucking with you.  Cow’s milk.  You put cow’s milk in hot cocoa.”_

“I see.”

“ _You didn’t know that_?”

He felt his ears flush.  “I did not.”

“ _Well, you learn something new every day.  Hey Chapel, Spock didn’t know what kind of milk goes into hot cocoa!  And I had to tell the hobgoblin_!”

“Doctor, that is quite enough.”

“ _Are you really making hot cocoa_?”

“Affirmative,” Spock said tightly.

“ _What recipe are you using?  Making it from scratch_?”

“Indeed.”  Spock told him the recipe.

“ _Sounds good, especially with the cayenne pepper, but add in some malted milk powder.  That’s how we used to make it back home.  Makes it taste like heaven._ ”

“Indeed.  How much?”

“ _I dunno.  To taste, Spock.  A few tablespoons, maybe.  Give or take._ ”

“That is not very precise.”

“ _I know, sorry about that.  Goddamn...makes me want some too.  How about sharing some of that with your kindly ol' physician?_ ”

“Doctor,” Spock warned.

“ _Where are you?  In the lab_?”

Spock hesitated.  “Affirmative.”

“ _Oh.  Why aren’t you in the kitchen?  Is this a science experiment?  What goddamned hypothesis is hot cocoa gonna prove_?”

“It is nothing to concern yourself with, Doctor.”

“ _I better not have to treat any injuries of yours from blowing the place up._ ”

“That particular incident happened once, Dr. McCoy.  Only once.”

“ _Don’t scald yourself with the hot milk.  Can I come by?_ ”

“Negative.  Spock out.”

“ _Oh, come on--_ ”

Spock had quickly terminated the comm link.  Hence the need to hack in to the computer, to avoid tempting the doctor to come by to share the beverage that was intended for Jim.

He had been satisfied that the gift was a logical one.  He had done the appropriate research into the health benefits, if any, of hot cocoa.  His findings: The drink is rich in antioxidants, which helps prevent cardiovascular disease and assists the human body to fight against free radicals that can damage cells.  Cocoa is rich in flavonoids, compounds produced by Earth plant-life that have shown to have many health benefits for humans.  

A cup of hot cocoa contained more anti-oxidants than a similar sized glass of red wine or tea.  It was quite possibly due to the fact that a large amount of antioxidants are released when the cocoa is heated.  Flavinoids in cocoa reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease by decreasing blood pressure and improving endothelial function in blood vessels.  They also shield blood vessels from free radical damage, helping reduce blood platelet build up and preventing blood clots.  The anti-inflammatory properties in flavenoids also prevented oxidative stress and insulin resistance.  

Due to the findings, he concluded, the drink would be most beneficial to the captain’s health.  Therefore it would indeed would be a most logical gift for the captain.

He heated the milk up to a brisk boil.  

He then took the mug and studied it.  The instructions said to fill the mug half way with the dry mixture.  The mug measured 5 inches on the inside.  Therefore 2 1/2 inches of mixture were required.  

He set the mug down on the lab table, carefully dropped in, utilizing a funnel, the dry mixture so that it reached the precise half-way point.

Now for the milk.

He stirred it with a spoon, then held up the mug, wafting the steam towards his nose.  Hmm.  The drink seemed to smell appropriately rich and chocolately, fascinating.  

Chocolate was in fact classified as an A-1 intoxicant for vulcans.  It did possess similar health benefits, but the intoxicating effects were akin to a glass of brandy.  

However, he had been aware of the logical need to taste the drink to make absolutely certain it was made correctly.  

One small sip of hot cocoa was certainly not going to intoxicate him.

He took a sip of the beverage.  He frowned perceptively.  Perhaps the mixture needed a bit more cayenne pepper.  Or was it the sugar that was lacking?  He did not know, but the taste seemed off.  

Granted, he had never tasted hot cocoa before, but it did have an odd bitter taste.  He took another exploratory sip.  Hmmm.  The taste seemed definitely off.  He was forced to conclude that he had made an error.  Surely hot cocoa should not taste so bitter.  Most likely too much cocoa?

Perhaps he should consult with Doctor McCoy as to the quality control of this beverage.  

No.  McCoy would simply insult, gloat, tease, harangue him about safety in the lab and beg for his own mug of hot cocoa.  As he was unwilling to share Jim’s gift, it was best not to disturb the Chief Medical Officer.

He added more malted milk powder, then took another small sip.  Better, but still not enough.  Needed a bit more.  He added more then took another sip.  

He took yet another sip.  

He then realized he had consumed the entire contents of the mug.  

Going through the steps again, he added another pinch of malted powder to the dry mixture before measuring more milk. He tasted the beverage again.  Still seemed off.  Perhaps more sugar.  He added more.  It still seemed not right.

Perhaps he should consult with Dr. McCoy.

No.  

HE would fix this on his own.  The captain would demand a precise cup of hot cocoa as well he should and it was Spock’s duty as first officer of this ship, to supply him with the best concoction that he could create.

Finally, after a number of taste tests for quality control purposes.  He had created the best specimen possible.  Finally a perfect cup of hot cocoa.  With malted milk powder, just as McCoy had suggested.

He placed a small red velvet bow on the golden ‘Captain’ mug, a name tag that stated-- 'To: Jim, Merry Christmas, from: Spock'.  He set it into a special warming box.  

He checked the crono: 20:55.28.  He must make his way to the captain’s quarters if he was not to be late.  

He carefully cradled the special box in the crook of his arm and went out of the lab.

* * * 

Spock noticed the curious stares as he stepped out into the corridor.  Odd.  What were they looking at?  Was something amiss?  

He found his balance was slightly off, his perceptions different.  He had not had THAT much cocoa, probably only two mugs or so, or perhaps three.  That would not be enough to affect him.  Still it seemed extremely difficult to walk straight.  No matter.

He had nearly made it to the captain’s door, when suddenly a hand lashed out to catch him by the arm, halting him suddenly.  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Going?” He turned and frowned hard, as he found it was the incessantly annoying Doctor Leonard McCoy. “Last time I checked, Leonard, this was a free starship, therefore none of your business.’

McCoy’s eye’s widened.  “‘Leonard’? What the fuck?  What the hell’s the matter with you?”

He managed to shake his arm free of the man’s grasp.  “Not a thing.”

“What the fuck did you do in that lab?  You were only making hot cocoa.  It’s like I’m witnessing Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde!”

He couldn’t help but smirk and perhaps give out a small snort at that.  “I... assure you...nothing is the matter.”

“You’re slurring your words.”

“I am not.”

“You are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are too!” McCoy’s voice appeared to raise.

“Are not.”

McCoy became red faced.  “ARE TOO!”

Suddenly the doors to the captain’s quarter’s swooshed open.  “What the hell is going on here, gentlemen?  Oh!  Hi, Spock.”

“Hi, Jim,” Spock said.  He held up the box.  

“Dammit, Spock!  Get your ass to med-bay,” McCoy demanded.

“I assure you I am not ill nor injured, now I implore you, Doctor, to please back the fuck off.”

“‘Back the fuck off’?  Are you out of your Vulcan mind?”

Suddenly the doctor grabbed at his arm once again.  Spock lost his grip the box and it went up into the air, spinning.  He tried desperate to catch it, but he could not.   It landed hard on the deck.  His face fell as he heard the shatter inside.  “Ohhhh,” he gasped.

Suddenly his vision blurred, the corridor spun and he felt himself hitting the deck.

* * *

Spock blinked his eyes open to find himself lying on a bio-bed in med-bay.  Jim and Dr. McCoy stood over him. 

“Drunk,” McCoy muttered with disgust, then snickered and shook his head.

“Drunk?”

“Off his ass.  Absolutely wasted.  Cocoa mimics booze and makes Vulcans three sheets to the wind, based my my toxicology findings.”

“It does?  Can you give him something to counteract it?”

“Well, we have anti-ol but that wouldn’t work on him.  Nor would I trust it on his delicate little system.”

“Doctor,” Spock felt the need to pipe up, “my system is not delicate nor little.”

“Shut-up, Spock.”

“Awww,  I think he sounds cute when he’s slurring his words, Bones.”

“Oh really?  How come you don’t say that when I’M slurring my words?”

“Cause you’re a mean drunk, Bones.”

“You know what Jim?  Just for that, you’re taking him to your quarters, looking after his drunk ass.  Let him sleep it off.  Oh, and that’ll probably be one hell of a hangover, Mr. Spock, just so you know.”

Kirk nodded and motioned:  “Come on, Spock.  I’ll help you to my quarters.”

* * *

“Jesus!  I never knew you were so heavy!” Jim said with a hint of exasperation.  Spock felt himself being helped through Jim’s doors--Jim’s arm around his waist, his own arm slung around the captain’s shoulders-- into the quarters proper and then pushed to sit down on the man’s bunk.  “Oh my God,” Jim said, sounding relieved at losing the load.  “You really are shit-faced.”

“‘Shit-faced’?” Spock wondered.  “I have not heard that term before.”

Jim laughed-- a melodic, wondrous, beautiful sound.  “That’s cute.”

“What is cute, Jim?”

“You.  Slurring and cussing.”

“‘Shit’?  ‘Shit’ is cussing, Jim?”

“Yeah.  Never heard you swear before."  Jim chuckled again.

“I have, plenty of times.  We even have ‘curse words’ in Vulcan.”    “' _Ben-ath'_.  That means: ‘shit’.”

Jim laughed again, much harder.  “That's fucking adorable.”

“‘I am... 'fucking' adorable,” Spock repeated, snorted softly at that, then sank down onto Jim’s bed.  “That must be a... g-good thing.”

“It is,  oh it is.”  Jim began pulling off Spock’s boots and then socks.  “Come on.  Let me make you more comfortable.”  

Spock felt the cold air around his bare feet.  He couldn’t help but shiver.

“You cold?” Jim asked.

“Yes.  I am sorry,” Spock replied.

“Well, then I won't take anything else off.  Here.”  Jim pulled back the bed covering.  He pushed Spock to move under the blanket and lie his head on the proffered pillow.  Jim covered him with the blanket nice and tight.  “Is that better?  Should I turn up the cabin temp?”  

“Please do not adjust the temperature.  This is adequate.”

“Are you sure you’re warm enough?”

He was not quite, but he was not going to inconvenience his captain much more.  His ears flushed in shame.  “I must apologize for my behavior, Captain.”

Jim sat down on the edge of the bunk, laying his hand on Spock’s arm.  “No, no, no, Spock.  Don’t you dare apologize and don’t get all ‘Captain‘ on me.  It’s Christmas Eve.  I don’t mind looking after you, really I don’t.”  Jim stroked Spock’s arm.  “You just relax and go to sleep.  I got you.”

“I am already relaxed, Jim.”  

“Good.  Go to sleep, Spock.”  There was an unusual lilt to Jim’s voice.  Spock had never heard it sound like that before.  Soft and melodic.  Beautiful.

“Spock, you’re still shivering, you still cold?”

He sighed and blushed again.  “Somewhat,” he admitted.

Jim pulled up the bed-coverings on the side nearest him and slid into bed next to Spock.  “Standard procedure on cold snowy planets." He chuckled again at that but sobered.  "This okay?”  

Spock nodded.  With Jim now against him under the covers, he felt cozy and comfortable.  Jim shifted even closer.   “Come here.”  Jim raised up an arm, apparently directing Spock to lay his head on his shoulder.  “It’s alright, come on.”

The idea was tempting, but--”Jim, that position will not be comfortable for you, my body mass is many times yours.”

Jim chuckled.  “Are you saying you’ll deaden my arm and shoulder by laying on me?  Don’t worry, Spock.  I don’t mind.”

Spock finally capitulated and moved to lay his head on Jim’s shoulder.  Jim's arm went around him, then the other.  His breath hitched slightly as he realized... he was...being held... in Jim's arms.

“Comfy?” Jim asked.  “Warmer?”

“Indeed,” Spock whispered.  Even ‘drunk’ as he was, he was painfully aware that he had crossed the bounds of their professional relationship.  He would apologize profusely to his captain in the morning.

His eyes grew heavy and he slept.

* * *

Spock started awake and immediately sat up.  Uncertain as to where he was for a moment, he realized he was in the captain’s quarters, in the captain’s bunk... with the captain cuddlned up against him.  

His sudden movement had awoken the man, who opened his eyes and yawned.  “Spock?”  Jim voiced, mid-yawn, moving his his arm, presumably to get the feeling back into it.  “How you doing?  You okay?”

“No,” Spock said.  He moved off the bed and bolted into the lavatory.

It wasn’t until the third time he’d vomited into the toilet that he realized Jim was crouched behind him, rubbing his back.  He blushed in shame.  “Captain, please...don’t.”

“Spock, you’re very ill.  I’m gonna call Bones.”

“No.  I am beginning to feel much better.”  Spock stood, very carefully and flushed the toilet.  Jim handed him a glass of water and a towel to wipe his mouth.  “Thank you.”

“All because of hot cocoa,” Jim said, with a wry smile.  “Bet you’ll never be doing that ever again.  Why were you drinking it in the first place?  Curiosity?  Didn’t you realize the effect it would have on you?”

“I was--” Spock stopped.   He realized his Christmas gift for his captain was ruined.  The mug had shattered into many pieces.  He had heard it break.  He was uncertain as to where the gift even was at this point, as he had not spotted the box when he had run to the toilet.  It would be unlike him to give a false answer, but it was better not to mention the gift at all if he could not present it.  Everything had gone totally wrong.  The humiliation building in his abdomen threatened to spill out in tears if he did not pull himself together.  Now was the time for absolute control.  “I had merely been performing a scientific experiment, Captain, in the lab, nothing more.”

“What was in the box you were going to hand me?”

“My findings, sir,” he said, stiffly. 

He moved away from the captain, went over to the living area, located his socks and boots, which Jim had placed very neatly on the deck next to the bunk.  He sat on the bunk to don them.  Jim stood in front of him, an expression of concern etched on his face.

“Are you sure you're okay, Spock?”

“Affirmative,” he said tightly.  

"You can stay longer, if you'd like.  You know.  Make sure you're okay. You just threw up.  So you're hung over."

"Unnecessary, Captain, I am fine," he said, crisply.

Something seemed to click in the captain.  The man’s mood  seemed to darken, and he seemed to shift into professional mode.   “Are you still going to present me with the findings?”

“Negative, Sir.”

“I see, Mr. Spock.”  Jim went over to his desk and sat down at it, picking up his PADD.  “Thank you.”

Spock finished getting himself presentable, then stood at attention, hands behind his back, in front of the captain’s desk.  “I must apologize, for my behavior, last night, Captain,” he said with as much formality as he could muster.

“It’s alright, Mr. Spock,” Jim said with equal formality but with an odd, haunted look in his eyes, almost hurt.  “It’s not like...anything happened between us.” 

Spock raised an eyebrow at that.  “By your leave, Captain?”

“Certainly.”  Before Spock could reach the door, the captain called out in a soft voice:  “Merry Christmas, Spock.”

Spock turned briefly, nodded, then vacated the cabin.  

Christmas Eve was over with, as was their evening together.  The gift was ruined and along with his deplorable behavior, it would be far better to concern himself solely with his duties.

  
* * *

He entered his own quarters, removed his uniform and quickly took a sonic shower.  He dressed himself into fresh clothing, cleaned his teeth, then carefully combed his hair.  He concentrated on making himself completely presentable, erasing any indication that he had spent the night in Jim’s arms.  In the mirror, he had examined his face, and noted it was sleep lined.  The green, deep indents into his cheek, of course, coming from Jim’s uniform shirt.  He caressed his own face, as he stared at himself, with two fingers.  

Jim had felt so right, so pleasurable, up against him, holding him--

He resumed his mask of composure, and exited his cabin.

  
* * *

He had traversed the main corridor, ready to head to the lift for a unscheduled watch on the bridge, when he realized that he had left lab 7 in a state of disarray in his haste to meet the captain last night.    
  
That was unacceptable.  He must tidy up.

He strode down an adjoining corridor, intent on reaching the lab as fast as possible.  With the amount of speed he was unable to react properly when he felt a hand clamp onto his arm.  Rather than dislodging himself he spun around in the grasp and into the scowling face of Dr. McCoy.

“Shut up and come with me.”

The hand dragged him into the lab, before it thankfully let go of him.

“What do you want, Doctor?”  He heard the medical type II scanner whirling.  “I assure you, I am quite alright.” 

“You have a pounding headache.” McCoy squinted at the scanner’s readings.

"Nothing too serious."  
  
“I'll be the judge of that.  Alright fine.  Don't want anything for it.”

Spock noticed the lab was indeed tidy.  “I must thank you for cleaning up the lab, Doctor.”  He nodded at the man politely and turned to go.

“Hold your horses, asshole,” McCoy huffed.  “Here.”  He handed Spock a brightly wrapped box.  “Don’t drop it this time.”

“What is this?”

“Your gift for the captain,” McCoy said tightly.

“I have no gift for the captain.”

“The hell you don’t!  Here it is.  See...I fixed things for you.  So you can give it to him, now, understand?”

“The mug shattered,” Spock attempted to explain.

“I got you another one.  A replacement.”

“It was a special mug, Doctor.”

“Exactly.  You think you’re the only fucker that has connections?  In fact I have more than you do.  And I know a thing or two about concocting a mean cup of hot cocoa.  Even got marshmallows in it.  Jim loves marshmallows.”

Spock shook his head.  “Dr. McCoy--”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Spock.  Jim is in love with you.  And I can tell you feel the same way about him.  Now make him happy, make yourself happy and get back to his quarters and give him his fucking Christmas present, or I’m gonna have to murder you, you fucking prick.”

Spock raised his eyebrow at the doctor’s anger, foul language and idle threats.  “Jim is not in love with me.”

McCoy smacked his hands to his own face.  “Oh my God.  You are a dense mother fucker.  Go back to his quarters, give him the fucking gift,” he hissed.  “Or else!”

“If you put it like that, Doctor, I must obey your wishes.”

McCoy rolled his eyes.  “You must obey my wishes...” he glanced upward and blanched.  “Holy shit.”

“What is it, Doctor?”

McCoy’s face turned red.  “We’ve been...standing underneath the mistletoe this whole time.  Oh no.”

Spock glanced up to see what the doctor was scowling at.  “I am not kissing you.”

“No shit.  Use it on the captain.  You gotta.  You don’t want bad luck, do ya?”

“I suppose not.”

“Then kiss him.  I’ll go kiss Chapel.  Then we’ll both be okay.”

Spock nodded.  “Acceptable.”

“Good.  Now git!”

  
* * *

  
The gift firmly in hand, Spock chimed the captain’s door.

“Enter,” he heard the captain call out.  The doors swooshed open for him.  Spock entered and stood in front of his captain.

“Spock,” Jim said, with a smile.  “You’re back.”  The man sounded relieved.

“Merry Christmas, Jim,” Spock said, then leaned in to kiss him tenderly on the lips. 

He broke away to see a wide eyed Jim.   
  
His face fell at that, McCoy had been sorely incorrect.  “Forgive me,” he said.

“Oh God...Spock...”  Jim pulled Spock to him by the scruff of the neck and returned the kiss.  

When they finally, after long moments, broke apart, Spock handed Jim the box.  “This is for you.”

_______ 

fin


End file.
